


Happiness

by Sanalith



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanalith/pseuds/Sanalith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle finds that she is not unhappy in the Dark Castle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness

It took Belle nearly a month before she decided she was very nearly comfortable in her new role as housekeeper to the Dark One. She’d been taken out of the dungeon and given a good and proper room after the first night, which she now realized he’d done purely for shock value, or perhaps because it seemed to be expected. She’d gotten her chores into a nice routine, and if her smooth hands developed calluses and her delicate feet ached at the end of the day, at least she had something tangible to show for it. She’d obviously never lifted a finger to clean or dust before, but such things weren’t hard to learn, and she enjoyed an activity that showed visible progress.

The one duty in which she had _not_ improved, however, was cooking.

She’d managed not to poison her master quite yet, but she knew very well that her over-cooked chickens, lumpy puddings and burnt vegetables weren’t exactly appetizing. It wasn’t for lack of trying, that was for certain, but though she’d been taught how to _manage_ a kitchen, Belle had absolutely no idea how to actually cook in one.

Rumpelstiltskin commented on her lack of skill often, though by now she knew it was more to annoy her than because he actually cared what he ate. For all she knew, he used magic to make the meal more palatable when she wasn’t looking. But one evening, after a particularly horrid roast – even by her standards – provoked a more cutting comment than normal, Belle found herself with enough bravery to scowl at him and retort, “Well, if you’d wanted a proper cook, you should have asked for one instead of me, shouldn’t you?”

Her master stared at her silently for a good thirty seconds, just long enough for Belle’s mind to catch up with her mouth and realize how phenomenally stupid it was to talk back to the most powerful creature in all the realms, when he threw back his head and laughed.

It was a full-throated laugh, not like his normal giggles, and Belle couldn’t stop herself from smiling. It was a _nice_ laugh. She wished he’d use it more often.

Not that it should matter to her. At all.

“Quite so, dearie, quite so.” His laugh had dwindled to a chuckle, but his grin was still in place. “I suppose it’s enough that you’ve learned to clean and dust so quickly, and you’ve managed washing silk and leather better than I anticipated.” He wrinkled his nose. “Nobody’s perfect, are they?”

Belle returned his smile, half out of relief and half from genuine happiness. “I _will_ get better eventually. Just…well, probably not for a while.” She perked up. “If you find me some cook books, perhaps that would help!”

“Yes, perhaps. I’ll see to that.” Rumpelstiltskin steepled his fingers together. “So. You never learned to cook, wash or clean. Did they teach you _anything_ of use in that drafty old castle of yours?”

Belle opened her mouth to retort that of course she had useful skills, but she ended up gaping like a fish and suddenly it was her turn to laugh.

“Honestly, not really,” she admitted. “I learned to sew and play music, how to dance and serve as a hostess. I did learn how to manage a household, but…” She shook her head. “I always thought it was strange I was instructing people how to do a job they understood much better than I, but as the lady of the house, it was expected of me.”

Rumpelstiltskin considered her. “I saw you reading a book in the Old Tongue not long ago.” He gave her a mock glare. “You were supposed to be working, of course, but I was generous enough to let it slide.”

Belle giggled. “How magnanimous of you, sir.”

“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “In any case, somehow I doubt that is a talent many proper young ladies possess.”

“Definitely not,” she agreed. “My interest in books and scholarship was always a sore point with my governess. I was supposed to learn the most basic history of our land and people, just enough so I could discuss it if necessary and not be thought ignorant, but book learning in general was reserved for sons, not daughters.” She smiled, slightly sadly. “But my father…well, at first I thought he indulged me out of pure love, but as I grew older, I realized it was because he felt like he needed to make up for the death of my mother. He couldn’t bear to take away anything that gave me happiness, especially something as simple as allowing me to read whenever I wanted. When I expressed an interest in learning other languages, he hired a tutor without question.”

“A singular father, then,” the Dark One murmured, and Belle could only agree. 

“He never treated me as inferior based on my sex. Not even when his ministers and advisors told him how unseemly it was to have me present during state discussions.” Her eyes hardened slightly. “When I became betrothed to Gaston, they became even worse, practically ordering him to send me away. But he always refused.”

Rumpelstiltskin snorted. “If your father loved you so much, why in the world did he try to pawn you off on that oaf of a knight?”

Belle shrugged. “We needed his family’s army,” she replied simply. “My father apologized for it over and over. He’d never explicitly told me I could choose my own partner, but it was always implied. I know he felt horrible about it.” She sighed. “But then the ogres came, and we had no choice.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “As you know, I do what is necessary to protect my people. That was the case even before you arrived.”

He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, and Belle thought she saw a spark of admiration in his eyes. “So willing to sacrifice yourself on the altar of duty?” he asked, flourishing his hand, but she knew his heart wasn’t in it.

“My father never would have forced me to wed Gaston, if I’d flatly refused,” she replied levelly, “just as no one forced me to come here.”

“’No one decides my fate but me,’” he parroted, his eyes gleaming. “Yes, I suppose so.” He giggled brightly. “You would have made a horrible wife for that Gaston of yours, you know.”

Belle laughed. “I don’t think it would have been horrible, but…” She sighed. “We certainly had nothing in common, and I’m sure I would have been expected to do nothing more than command the household and produce heirs. He probably would have left me alone otherwise. Not the happiest existence, I grant you, but hardly the worst fate imaginable.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Rumpelstiltskin asked, almost hesitantly, “And here, Belle? Are you…happy…here?”

Surprised both at the use of her actual name as well as the question, Belle bit back the automatic “Yes” that sprang to her lips. He’d not thank her for a pretty lie, and he’d certainly be able to tell if she spoke falsely. The trouble was that she wasn’t precisely sure of the answer herself. 

Slowly, considering each word carefully, she replied, “I’m…content here, I think. I don’t mind the hard work, and I _am_ happy knowing that I saved my land and my people. I would have paid any price for that and considered it a fair one.” She gazed up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time that evening. “I can get lonely, sometimes. I’m a social creature by nature, and being alone here is…difficult sometimes.” She gave a rather shy smile. “But…perhaps if we spoke more often…when you’re not busy, of course and when I’m not working. I…I rather like talking with you.” She said the last almost in a whisper, so surprised was she at even thinking it, much less saying it, but it was the truth nonetheless.

Rumpelstiltskin raised an equally incredulous eyebrow, but he did not seem displeased.

“So… yes, I suppose, in a way, I am happy,” Belle finished, averting her gaze once more. “It’s certainly not the life I envisioned for myself, but…well, life never turns out exactly the way one expects, does it?”

“No,” he agreed quietly, his voice suddenly carrying a heavy weight Belle had never heard before. “No, it does not.”

Silence reigned between them for nearly a full minute, and then Rumpelstiltskin suddenly pushed back his chair. “I’ll find you those cook books I promised,” he announced, the manic giggle back in his voice. “Sooner rather than later, in case this does actually improve meals around here.”

“Thank you. I’m sure it will, truly.”

He nodded and turned to leave, and on impulse, Belle pushed back her own chair and reached out to him.

“Will I see you later this evening? I could…I could read while you spin, if you don’t want to talk. Just the company would be lovely.” 

Rumpelstiltskin did not turn, but after a brief hesitation, he slowly inclined his head.

“If you wish it.”

“I do.” Belle smiled, though he couldn’t see, and she felt her heart lighten for the first time since the ogres appeared. “I’d like us to be…friends, if we can.”

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t respond, but somehow he didn’t need to. She could practically feel his hesitation and confusion, and – while she didn’t completely understand it herself – she knew she’d do whatever it took to prove to him that he _could_ trust her, that she _could_ be a true and loyal friend.

Such things shouldn’t matter. Belle knew that. She shouldn’t care whether or not they were friends, so long as they weren’t enemies.

But when he’d asked whether or not she was happy, and she eventually answered yes, she knew it wasn’t merely because she’d saved her people or because she’d avoided an awkward arranged marriage.

It was because of him.

Somehow, someway, despite his manic giggles and ironic flourishes, Rumpelstiltskin made her happy.

And she was determined to do the same for him.

He didn’t need her here, after all. Everything she did, every task she performed, he could do faster and better with his own magic. He didn’t want her for her skills, but he still wanted _her_ , for reasons he’d never disclosed, and probably never would. What better reason could there be than because he, too, craved company?

So that evening, she joined him in the Great Hall, and she let the creaking of his wheel lull her into a deep contentment as she perused one of the new cook books he’d procured so swiftly for her. They spoke not a word, but if he’d asked her in that moment again whether or not she was happy, she wouldn’t have had to hold back her automatic “Yes.”

Belle smiled, and turned the page.


End file.
